


Junked!

by mx_vertiginous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Heavy Drinking, but not yet I gotta get to it, eventual hatesex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 00:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12716190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mx_vertiginous/pseuds/mx_vertiginous
Summary: Alternate timeline where Hela gets dropped into the junkpiles of Sakaar instead of Thor.  Mostly just an excuse to smash Hela and Valkyrie into each other someplace where Hela doesn't have the power boost of Asgard.  This might end up being crackfic, or maybe it's going somewhere.  No clue yet.  Enjoy!





	Junked!

Way off on the horizon the Scrapper saw what she thought was smoke. She took a long swig of whiskey and then adjusted her scope. Smoke could mean a lot of things. A ship engine caught on fire, a primitive woodstove from another dimension, or just that the scavengers had found a cache of bombs. But this looked different, something was up in the scrapyard

As she zipped in closer for a better look, a wave of various rodents skittered in the opposite direction. Good sign, she thought to herself. The rats had an instinct for saving their own hides. 

She pulled up short just before the edge of the circle of destruction. Something or someone had certainly flattened the junk. Here and there lay bodies of the masked scavengers, wretched creatures just out for anything edible they could dig out of the trash. The scavengers were not nearly as clever at knowing when to run. 

In the middle of the circle stood a single, slender, black-clad humanoid, it’s back to her. Scrapper 142 didn’t know if the person hadn’t seen her, or arrogantly just didn’t care. You got all kinds of weirdos dropping out of the sky on Sakaar. From their handiwork though, 142 guessed it wasn’t too wise to test them. 

She parked her ship at the edge of the clearing, and shouldered her rifle. Even stone cold sober, sniping was not her strong point, but she’d be a fool to approach the being directly if she could avoid it. But she’d spent most of the afternoon drinking away the remnants of last night’s hangover, and her aim was shaky. The first shot whizzed right over the being’s shoulder, and it was turning towards her when the second shock button hit it’s mark. 

It screamed a feral scream.

Quickly, 142 scrambled for the remote and slammed the switch until the shock had reduced the being to a quivering mess on the filthy ground. Another swig of whiskey, and the Scrapper lazily guided her ship within range of the new creature. Hovering a couple meters away, she popped the top, and leaned out to peer at her new catch.

“Gotcha.” She smiled and mimed shooting the being with finger guns.

The black clad figure pushed itself to it’s feet and turned to face her.

Scrapper 142 blanched. It was the stuff of her nightmares, rising before her. She leaned over the edge of her ship and puked. But no, it couldn’t be. Not here….

“I am Hela, Goddess of Death. Kneel before your queen.”

142 wiped the bile from her mouth, and yelled a little louder than she really needed to. “No you’re fucking not. I don’t know what you are, some kind of bullshit shapeshifter trying to screw with me. But you are not Hela, Goddess of Death.” She gestured roughly at the circle of destruction. “That bitch would have leveled 20km of scrap. What’s this? 3km? Maybe 4? Nice work for a bullshit magician, though.”

“I said kneel!” the shapeshifter commanded with barely a hint of impatience in her voice.

Lightly, the Scrapper hopped down from her ship, lunching leftwards when her foot slid on a loose board. She approached the being with a grin on her face and held up the remote. “No, bitch. You kneel.”

The shock button sizzled and the Goddess of Death fell to her knees as commanded.


End file.
